


Awaken

by Drocell



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Flash Fic, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-29
Updated: 2010-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-09 05:40:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drocell/pseuds/Drocell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doyle left her a little parting gift. Irish men knew how to apologize.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Awaken

**Author's Note:**

> 500 words exactly.
> 
> **Characters:** Doyle &amp; unnamed bartender.

It was a known rule that you do not disturb the bartender on her day off. It was installed, by fear, that if you should wake the friendly bartender on her day off, you would get a very unfriendly response. Something about the wrath of God, or the sensation of a thousand hornets penetrating your skin with their sharp stingers. Now the only people in the world that didn't understand this given rule; were UPS men. They were either entirely too brave, or just on the dense side of life.

Not many things angered your friendly neighborhood 'tender, being awoken from a sound sleep on their day off, was up there on the list of things you just didn't do.

The bell rang for a third time. Someone was impatient.

The bartender glared at her ceiling, anger boiled in hazel hues. The frown was permanent on her face, and she knew she'd be frowning for the next week following this inconvenient disturbance. "Someone is going to die," her Southern drawl was thick, laced with every negative emotion one could have. No many knew the bartender had a Southern tie in, not many cared enough to ask where the young woman came from. The seductive drawl of the Southern only came out when she was one irritated lady.

She kicked the sheets off her messy bed, flung her legs over the edge of it, and got to her feet in a huff.

Exiting her bedroom, the woman stalked down the hallway with hunched shoulders, and narrowed eyes. She took a hold of the doorknob, and flung the door open, giving the other person an impatient look. It was indeed the UPS man, and he knew exactly the naughty thing he had done. The color drained from his face, and his throat when dry.

"What is it?" her voice was husky with sleep.

He offered up the small brown cardboard box. "You have a package," the UPS man attempted to keep the quiver from reaching his voice.

She narrowed her eyes. "I don't get packages." What the hell was this?

The man's eyes dropped back to the package. "It has your address," he informed her. "Are you a bartender?" The UPS man held up the package with a trembling hand. Whoever had sent it, clearly wasn't on first name terms with the bartender.

Aggravated, the woman reached out and took her package before slamming the door in the man's face. "To hell with signing for it!" she exclaimed irritably. He didn't object.

The 'tender opened the box to find a post it note, and small heart-shaped necklace. "Stalker?" she furrowed her brows, picked up the note, and read it out loud to herself.

"Because I never did thank you for your kindness, and I never learned your name either. You were just there, and I think I took that for granted, 'tender."

She smiled. Irish men really knew how to apologize, didn't they?


End file.
